#benefits of boiled egg

[tamilethnicity]

Scientists share exact time to cook a boiled egg – it's longer than you think

Many people across the UK will be used to boiling an egg for their breakfast every morning, but a newly released study has suggested a new way of making the popular meal – and it may take longer than you think. The new method is said to bring a whole host of benefits ranging from a more creamy yolk and firm white exterior, but it also might provide a nutritional boost. As the method explains,…

[munch-mumbles]

everyone please clap <- guy who stayed home and made pudding (waiting on it to finish setting rn) instead of giving in to the Sweets Urge and running out to the gas station to drop 10+ bucks on snacks

[sehatgyantips]

उबला अंडे खाने के फायदे

[rawjutsu]

HI :3 p2 of the ":3 with benefits" series

pairing: college aged loser yuuta x college aged lesser loser freader

summary: you run. he texts. you cave. ramen and doujinshi follow.

cw: eh none i think

you didn’t walk out of yuuta’s dorm—you fled. with your bra twisted, one shoe in your hand, and the ghost of his moan still ringing in your ears.

“your tits are so soft—i could die right here—i’d be so happy—”

you practically launched yourself into the hallway before he could finish the sentence. he was still panting, sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead like some sort of deranged hentai protagonist. you handed him your number just to get him to shut up.

“yeah haha sure text me”

you slam the dorm door behind you and don’t stop walking until you’re back at your own building. you delete the hinge app before you’ve even made it out of the parking lot, praying to whatever god watches over chronically online women that he never texts you.

and for a few days… he doesn’t.

you're just starting to breathe again when your phone buzzes.

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ hi :3

you stare at the message for a full minute.

you consider blocking him. you consider changing your number. but for some unholy reason—maybe you bumped your head running from his dorm—you reply.

hi

you stare at the bubble for a beat longer than you should, already regretting everything. but then he sends:

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ wanna get ramen with me? there’s this manga cafe that just opened n it has private booths and curry udon n a bunch of old school stuff :3

...private booths. doujinshi. ramen.

you sigh.

sure why the hell not

. . .

the manga café is cozy, cluttered, and smells like miso broth and freshly printed paper. yuuta’s already waiting at the front, still with that same sheepish smile, dressed in an oversized hoodie with faded black jeans and beat-up converse. the circles under his eyes are still aggressively present, but somehow it works.

“i got us the booth with the tv and the kotatsu table,” he says like he’s trying to impress you. “also, i preordered the spicy pork ramen. i didn’t know your spice tolerance so i got mild but you can swap if you want!!”

the booth is stacked with manga—classics, shoujo, even a few questionable titles you’d never admit to reading. you snort when you see a copy of that one infamous maid-themed bl doujin you’d bought on accident.

you stare at yuuta across the kotatsu table, chopsticks hovering in midair.

he's busy poking at his soft-boiled egg like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. occasionally he lets out a soft “mmm” at the flavor like he's a food critic and not the same man who had hentai girl posters on his ceiling.

the ramen's good. the ambiance? cozy. the playlist overhead is playing old-school anime ops. you should be having fun.

but you’re spiraling.

is this a date? can you even call it a date if you already got folded like a lawn chair by the dude three nights ago? shouldn’t this have happened before the sex? like, chronologically?

you sip your broth like it’ll clear your head, but instead it just burns your tongue.

yuuta looks up and smiles like you didn’t literally run out of his dorm like a bat out of hell the last time you saw him.

“i’m glad you came by, i was kinda nervous you’d block me lol”

did he just say lol out loud?

“i almost did.”

“fair.”

he’s honest, at least.

you glance around the café again, the soft hum of anime bgm blending with the slurp of noodles. there’s a couple in the next booth holding hands over a volume of my love story!! and someone solo-reading berserk with the focus of a monk.

you look back at yuuta.

“so... what is this exactly?”

he tilts his head.

“ramen.”

“no, like… us. this.”

yuuta blinks. his mouth opens, closes, then opens again like he’s buffering. you watch in real-time as his brain loads a response.

“i mean… i guess it’s a date? like, if you want it to be? or it can be just ramen? or like… a doujinshi meetup? with food?”

he says it so casually, like you’re not questioning your whole life and the concept of post-hookup social rituals.

you squint.

“do you normally date girls after railing them with hentai posters above your bed?”

he looks horrified.

“OH MY GOD I MEANT TO TAKE THOSE DOWN—I WASN’T EXPECTING COMPANY THAT DAY—”

you laugh. loudly. you’re not even mad you're just so bewildered. 

yuuta groans and hides behind his bowl, his ears visibly red.

“it’s okay if you don’t want this to be a thing,” he mutters. “i just like hanging out with you. like. you’re funny. and cool. and you knew the artist of that succubus doujin without even checking the spine and that was really hot actually.”

you pause.

that’s… kind of the nicest thing anyone’s said to you on a date. if this is a date. you’re still not sure.

but he’s looking at you now—not in the same way he did that night, all dazed and pussy-drunk—but like he’s actually seeing you.

“thanks,” you say. “that’s... weirdly sweet.”

he grins, cheeks still pink.

and suddenly you're just sitting on the floor next to a large bookcase, knees brushing, trading doujinshi recs with the guy who railed you within an inch of your life then asked if he could "hold your boobs for comfort."

it’s weird.

but it’s not... bad?

you leave the café with a full stomach, a new copy of succubus maid academy vol. 4, and a lingering feeling in your chest you can't quite name. yuuta waves at you as you walk off, still hugging his half-read bl anthology to his chest.

“text me when you get back safe okay!!”

you don’t promise you will.

but you do.

taglist: @isagistar sttaejoon-blog

[belovedgyu]

teaser - normal people || kim mingyu

⚬ pairing: architect! kim mingyu x fem! reader (she's a med student) ⚬ word count: 1k (this is just a teaser) ⚬ warnings: alcohol, drinking, spice/nsfw mentions and smut, mentions of revenge porn and other mature themes MDNI ⚬ genres: slowburn, angst, HEAVY MUTUAL PINING, friends with benefits/no strings attached, hurt/comfort, autumn in nyc, corporate!au ft. Joshua, Vernon, Lisa and a few OCs.

a/n: tentative release date: early/mid July let me know if you'd want to be added to the taglist.

playlist for this teaser: illicit affairs by taylor swift cinnamon girl by lana del rey love in the dark by adele

The first thing Mingyu notices after waking up is the silence—not the type that emerges from wordlessness, but one which falls down on his chest, choking out any sound he wants to make.

Its like someone has stuffed sand in his throat.

Even while he’s half asleep, he doesn’t wanna do something that might stir the girl lying on his pillow, a curtain of midnight strands sprawled over half her face and shoulders.

You. 

Your small hand is outstretched, too far from your own chest, too close to his but not touching. Like you wanted to reach out for him sometime during the early hours before daybreak, but even in your sleep, you knew not to. 

Mingyu wonders if you had any sleep last night, not that he was hyper aware of the winces you made whenever your hips moved even a little on the bed. Or the way that your other hand was lying idle over your pelvis, as if it had gone tired soothing the area. 

He took all the precautions, not just sexual but once that could shield you both emotionally, last night. Then why is his heart clawing at his ribs every time your chest rises with a breath deeper than the one before?

In theory, he should be smug…maybe even pat himself on the back. This was you whom he had successfully bedded.

You, who would make strangers stumble on their words each time you smiled that soft, disarming, guarded smile of yours. You, whom half of his friends were already knee deep in love with. The untouchable, and untouched y/n. 

But no such cheap pride flutters within him. 

Mingyu might be a player, a flirt, someone who loves attention which comes without any strings attached. But he’s not cruel.

No matter how much people try to box him in the same category as those fuckboys, he can never think of any girl being a milestone to achieve or a mere name added to his list. 

And this was you, afterall. 

He debates if he should wake you up to ask if you have work today, it's almost ten already. But then he decides to mind his own business.

Flunging his legs off the bed, he fluffs the duvet around your periphery, not daring to touch or disturb you in any way.

He fishes for the shirt he wore last night from the tangled heap of fabric on the floor, not for himself but for you.

Then, he places it carefully next to your ripped dress on the bed, as if offering you to put it on if the tear on the hem of your dress was too bothersome. 

An invisible cloud of citrus and fresh shower follows as he pads out to his kitchen—grey sweatpants riding loose on hips and wet hair flopped over his head, almost getting in his eyes. The scratches on his back, courtesy to you, sting a little when he stretches in front of the open cabinets to grab two ceramic mugs. 

He pulls out the remaining two eggs from his refrigerator, thinking how would you like them. He rakes his head for a memory of any of your several hangouts with him which should give him the answer to the dilemma of making it scrambled or boiled.

So far, nothing turns up. 

Sure, he knows what cuisine is Lisa’s favorite, what mushrooms cause Joshua to flare up, what brands of instant ramen Vernon places superior to Buldak. But he has no idea about you. 

Not because he doesn’t listen to you even when he’s pretending not to. But because of your casual guardedness.

You give what you want to give, never succumbing to peer pressure of the group hangouts where it's a competition to see who says the most interesting thing. 

“What are you even doing? Remember, this is casual, right?” A voice in his head, which sounds suspiciously like you, but more mature…like a ghost of you from decades ahead, travelled past in time to whisper that in his ear. 

The haunted rebuke jerks him out of this daze. The scent of you from last night invades his senses. 

He slams the refrigerator door and flinches at his own reflection. There it is, that ghost of you. Not in your shape or physicality. But in the lovebites blooming on his chest where you had buried your teeth over and over. On the trails of dug and drawn out nails that start from his back and end on the broad expanse of his shoulders from when you had tried to cling on to him as he drove in and out of you. 

God, he thinks, it seems like someone plucked the now twenty six year old Kim Mingyu out of his current timeline and chucked him to a random Saturday morning at his frat during college days. 

He should put on a shirt before you arise.

With that thought, he creeps back into his bedroom, carefully enough to not cause any commotion. 

But you are already stirring up—rubbing your closed eyes with one curled palm while the other latches on to the bunched up sheet on your chest. Even unguarded, you do not fail to knock all the air out of his system with your beauty.

Something in his gait shifts.

He seems taller now, his demeanor more lousy—a stark contrast to the caution with which he had entered. 

Its like a switch flipped within him.

He hides his strange nervousness around you under curtains of fake indifference.

“Sleeping beauty’s finally up, I see.” he can’t help but mumble with all the nonchalance in the world. 

But it isn’t enough to veil how unnecessarily hard he is gripping the door of his closet. Or how his fingers tremble when they grab the first shirt they can feel. 

“Morning…” you almost whisper and it takes everything in him not to whip around and check if there’s anything lingering on your face which could indicate regret.

“I hope I didn’t snore.” your voice sounds clearer now and it makes the ache in his chest dissolve with the next exhale. 

Good, at least you’re still talking to him. 

His smile is lopsided when he’s done unnecessarily smoothing out the fabric on his abs. “I would have thrown you out if you did.” 

He instantly regrets saying that.

You don’t look too hurt, your face doesn't fall, but you laugh like you’re unsure about how to respond. For some reason, he doesn't like that he confused you, even with a joke.

For a moment, he considers ridding you of any possible future confusions about last night by leaning down and kissing your forehead. By telling you just how much last night meant for him and he doesn't want you to think it's casual.

But Kim Mingyu hasn't done the "not casual" in a long, long time. And the last thing he wants you to be is an experiment, a trial, a guinea pig.

Besides, didn't you tell him that you didn't want this to mean anything? That you just wanted to borrow one of his nights?

Then why is he even thinking about overwhelming you by complicating this?

You wouldn't even believe him if he told you the truth, though.

He pretends to not even see you when you're around, never responds to your jokes, never asks for your opinions. He shuts up about his problems the moment you walk in the same rooms as him.

You'd think its because he doesn't want to share his life with you. He knows that its because he doesn't want you to see the ugly parts.

So he chooses to focus on pretending to be enamored by something else, again. This time, the clasp of his watch.

"I...uh, I gotta go, work thing."

There is no work thing.

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear, not even a sliver of dejection on your face.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?" He offers, then quickly adds, "You can stay as long as you want. There's some food in the fridge."

You smile at him, the soft, honest one which brought him here in the first place. "I need to do some studying."

"Yeah, right." He nods, grabbing his car keys from the dresser beside you. This is the closest he has been to you since the morning.

You turn around, watching his every moment. Not curious, not nervous. Just there. Like you had been there several times. But you hadn't.

"Mingyu," you mutter, "...thanks for last night."

"Anytime." He smirks, allowing his hand to ruffle your hair.

On his way out, he switches off the kettle simmering next to the two ceramic mugs he had pulled out earlier. Dumping the tea bags...your favorite earl grey that you ordered at every brunch, he pretends not to listen to his heart thudding in his ears.

let me know if you'd like to be added in the taglist for when this gets published <3 meanwhile, you can check out my previous work, "Fashion Show" here. or, you can take a look at the moodboard for this fic here.

[cloveroctobers]

one of these — 3. Alex Cross [Winter Prompts]

A/N: Where is the content for Aldis period?!!! I’ve been waiting since underground (2016) Him and Edwin will always be appreciated around here! Anyways I’m here with some fluff because it’s already winter in my mind and that’s usually what I try to write more of during this festive yet ugly cold weather. Enjoy some sweetness and foolishness? 🤍

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Snow down the back of the neck, 1. forced to plan and execute a Christmas feast.

WARNINGS: language, stress of the holidays, & fluff.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

A soft sigh of satisfaction falls past your lips just as you’re closing your famous pot roast into the oven to do its thing for the next few hours. Your balled fists go to your hips as you stand up straight in front of the closed oven, a small smile playing on them before it’s wiped right off.

It’s a biting cold sensation, wet and slushy as it’s drips down the back of your neck and rolls beneath the collar of your house coat. Hissing you whip your body around, hand reaching up to wipe off the remains of the snow racing to get down your spine. You’re half expecting it to be the kids who did this accidentally but the deep chuckle of laughter brings a glare to your face.

“Alex, You play too much!” You hold the back of your neck, trying to wipe it dry with the cotton of the robe.

The man is pulling off his insulated gloves, white teeth gleaming against the contrast of his pretty umber skin, “Mornin’ baby. I’d say I don’t play enough since you volunteered my services to that boiled egg head motherfucker across the street…when you know I don’t like that man.”

You huff, tugging the ends of your silk bonnet over your kitchen, double-checking to make sure none of the snow touched that area because if it did? Your fiancé just might have to be worried about getting ran over by you instead of the reindeer. “See…if you would have just asked before you gave attitude and walked off, you would have known that it was nana mama who did that, not me.”

Alex blinks with a raise of his brows, “Now why would she do that?”

“She’s friendly with the guy,” you shrug, “She’s even invited him over to the big feast later on.”

“Oh hell naw.” Alex frowns with a shake of his head, “It’s bad enough I had to listen to how cheap he is about not calling a snow company when he’s got benefits as a vet. Not only that, his lonely ass talks a lot of shit and dont nobody want to hear that in their own home.”

You scoff, “Well good luck telling nana mama that. Also you can’t just uninvite someone…especially on Christmas.”

Alex quickly titled his head, “We didn’t though and that’s nana mama’s problem.”

It was your turn to raise your brows, “It’s gonna be your problem if you don’t approach it right when you’re speaking to her.” You point the kitchen knife at the taller man who stares blankly at the utensil before you turn to place it into the sink, “Also you owe me an apology for assuming.”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as he stomps over to you, arms locking across your shoulders as he brought his lips to your ear, “I’m sorry for doing you like that. Yet…I’ve never seen you jump that high since that one time you thought you saw a mouse but it was nana mama’s wig.”

Your elbow goes right into his ribcage, making him groan and loosen his grip on you, followed by a cough of laughter. “You think you’re so funny but you and I both know that I lost my contacts that day. And clearly you lost your mind trying to mess with me when we’re being forced to do this feast.”

“Aw c’mon…I thought it would get a laugh outta you…and originally to get my lick back,” Alex admits with his hand resting on the side of the top of his torso while you simply roll your eyes but would later appreciate the honesty. The bearded man reaches out to you again, hands fighting to intertwine with yours as he starts to sing off key, “So shouldn't I realize, You're the highest of the high. If you don't know, then I'll say it, So don't ever wonder.”

It’s your turn to groan as Alex brings his cool lips to the warmth of your neck, placing a kiss there after trying to woo you with his terrible singing. That was one of his favorite tunes to sing to you and thankfully he hasn’t had any of that brown liquor or else this would be ten times worse.

When Alex is peppering your face with kisses, trying to sway you into his arms, your resolve breaks some despite you still trying to push him off of you. Being in his embrace was one of your favorite places to be, especially when it took time for you two to get here. Alex was big on physical touch. It all started out as nothing, meeting him at DC’s staple spot, Ben’s Chili bowl, with John before it actually turned into something. You weren’t necessarily in the streets or looking to date someone with kids, initially you were just open to keeping things casual and Alex was still healing with the tragic passing of his late wife.

It took work, the both of you had walls up but it’s been awhile since someone showed you that they were deserving of your time. Alex just loved to learn that he was running through your mind all day—his words of course—and had no issue putting the work in once he realized he was able to love again. You gave this a chance—although leery at the beginning—because you saw the good in Alex Cross. Saw his heart for what it is and finding that you liked being able to be part of it.

He shows you everyday why you should be…even if he had to get a little vengeful by putting some snow on you for something you didn’t do but that will be dealt with.

“I bought you something,” Alex says pulling his chin from on top of your bonnet and digging into his jacket pocket, “If you were wondering what was taking me longer than usual to get back…I snuck out to your spot, waited in line a little bit to get those peppermint bark cookies and those nasty ass gingerbread cookies for the kids too.”

You actually spot the smiley brown cookies, after peering around Alex’s taller frame, resting on the island counter.

A grin finds its way to your face as Alex holds out the wrapped dessert in festive paper and red ribbon to you. Christmas was always your favorite holiday and you raved about these cookies last night in bed saying that they would give you strength to do this large feast. It was all nana mama’s idea since you know, church folk like to get to talking but act like they don’t.

It’s not like the older woman ever needed to find something to talk about but she didn’t appreciate the ladies hinting that her own household couldn’t get down in the kitchen. Christmas Eve was spent at the church for a couple of hours and then Christmas Day was supposed to be a little more smoother where everyone did their own thing in their own homes but this year just had to be different.

Alex finds himself grinning too, watching the custom Pearl and oval engagement ring (which was given to you six months ago) glimmer against your finger as you plucked the cookies from his grasp. You’re making quick work unraveling the cherry and mistletoe decorated paper to take a bite of the peppermint cookies and hum.

“How is it?” Alex questions, already taking the hint at the sight of your eyes closing, “Everything it’s cracked up to be?”

Opening your eyes you nod, “Better than last years.”

“I think that’s just the baby talking,” Alex smirks as his hands go to your hips, softly running his thumbs against your sides.

You scoff, “You’re acting as if I’m deep into this pregnancy.”

You actually weren’t that far along into your second trimester. It wasn’t ideal being pregnant during your wedding so you were absolutely okay with pushing the date back to 2026, enjoying your timeline together the way it needs to be on your shared terms.

“I mean—

“Don’t start, Alex. You’re already on thin got damn ice.” You warn, pointing a finger at him.

He laughs, “Not snow?”

You’re shoving him out the way but he easily moves with you, still laughing.

He dips his head, “Can I get a bite, though?”

“Of this ass.” You flick your hand making Alex frown.

“…That’s not the insult you think it is.” He comments, hands shifting to grip your backside.

Rolling your eyes at his grinning and kissing the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, he lets you go just as you say, “John-Sam said don’t forget the smoked ham hocks for the greens.”

Alex whips his head to look at you, “Huh?”

“Yup.” You sigh, already knowing where this was going but decided to shift the conversation, “Can you take out the glazed ham nana mama made and set it aside so we can warm it back up in the oven once the roast is finished? My back’s a little achy today.”

Alex nods letting you know he’s heard that part, “Yeah of course, you should relax and let me handle everything else…but let’s run that back. I was making the black eyed peas since John deliberately left the greens yesterday and we had to settle for Kayla’s fuck ass green bean casserole.”

You can’t help but to snicker at that.

You were still shocked that John actually brought Kayla to dinner, although you figured out what was going on before John even told Alex. It just seemed like a fling to you but you honestly didn’t think Kayla was John’s type for the time that you got to know him but you minded your business.

Shrugging you say, “I don’t know. He texted saying something came up but he would still be here tonight.”

Alex is shaking his head, palms resting on the counter in annoyance, “What does that mean? If it was already made then why would I have to prepare the whole dish? Who am I, Anthony Hamilton all of a sudden? John’s the main one who claims he makes the best greens when we know that’s a lie! It’s solid but…This motherfucker right here.” He scowls.

“Okay,” you say around a bubble of laughter, “you got one more M-FER to drop before you owe some coin to the Samuel L. Jackson jar.”

Alex scoffs as you rest your hand on top of his, “It’s fine. You’ve pulled off a lot in shorter amount of time. It’s about to be eight, you can do this.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to.” Alex mumbles, “Now I got to go downstairs and get them from the deep freezer. They’re about to stink up the whole house while I clean and soak em. I wasn’t trying to get into that today. Something simple, mostly leftovers. The sisters won’t even know the difference. I should call John up right now—

“Nope,” you say, “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”

He side eyes you, “Says who?”

“I do. Baby does. Nana mama and the kiddies.” You reply listing off all the people he deeply loved as you step back from the counter, “…And just look it at as payback for attacking your pregnant wife to be. See how the lord works in mysterious ways? God don’t like ugly.”

Alex’s round eyes were almost buldging in annoyance as you fight back laughter, taking another bite of the cookie and chewing smugly. “The only ugly motherfucker I know is John.”

“You’re wrong for that and that’s not correct.”

“Hold up, Whatchu say?” Alex’s stepping towards you now as you laugh, escaping the kitchen.

Alex shakes his head in annoyance as he tosses his head back, staring up at the ceiling before deciding to let out some laughter but mostly in disbelief. He catches you around the corner, peeking around the fridge. He raises his brows in question at you regardless of how cute you appeared.

“I love you.”

Which almost instantly melts his irritation away, “I love you too, baby.”

“Be good.” You lightly warn, “Help yourself to a cookie.”

“…Which one’s?” He smirks after glancing away from the desserts and eyeing you up and down.

“Bye Alex!” You scoff, disappearing from his sight.

The both of you end up mirroring similar smiles on different sides of the house.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

[scoriarose]

Sometimes my enrichment ideas don't go over as well as I'd hoped. I'd seen some snakes who had a great time eating egg yolk from a glass, and I tried that with my girls. I took it out of the egg as the egg was far too big, and while at first I thought of making a hole in it I remembered how many times Sakura has tried to eat her dish. And her house. And the door to her enclosure when food touched it. Sure, wild snakes might eat eggs and regurgitate the shells just fine, but there's a lot of dangerous things wild snakes have to do that really wouldn't bring any benefit to making my girls do them.

So I broke an egg into a shallow glass they couldn't get stuck in.

Sakura was absolutely baffled by this strange object. After curiously inspecting the egg yolk, it burst in her face, and exploded a yellow mess? It was then I realized I may as well be showing her an alien as she'd never seen anything like this bizarre object before in her life.

"I found a yellow ball. I touched the yellow ball. It melted into a liquid! Why did this happen???"

And she pondered the egg throughout the day, repeatedly going over to look at it again and again. It absolutely mystified her. Perhaps she was checking to see if it would do any other strange tricks, or maybe even go back to being a solid.

She seemed equally interested in the strange barrier surrounding the yellow liquified ball.

It is best to ponder life's deep questions while looped through your favorite thinking orb.

If that fails, try caressing the forcefield itself to see if it will reveal its mysteries.

Scoria wanted absolutely nothing to do with the egg in the glass, and attempts to even show it to her only led to her fleeing from it. Both seemed relieved when the bizarre thing was gone. Ah well, perhaps they might like a boiled egg slice in a familiar food dish next time. While some snakes enjoy a treat of raw egg yolk, my girls will probably be happier not going through that excitement again any time soon.

[twiceeshy]

3% [chapter 4/?]

Read and view tags on ao3.

Summary: Three percent was the chance that suppressants would fail to protect from pregnancy, if a fertile Omega had sex with an Alpha during heat. It was non-negligible, but low.

Chapter summary: Marc returns a missed call.

E, rosquez, 4.6k words.

[start] [prev chapter]

--

The sun had finally risen when Marc woke up for the third time the next morning. He crawled out from his nest alone and didn't bother to make the bed. His thought that if the scents there wove themselves into one throughout the day, he might miss the absent one less.

Laia's cries had to be addressed first, by changing and feeding her, then rocking her back into slumber. After that, he was free to start his day.

Marc combed his hair before the bathroom mirror and pressed the pad of an index finger into the dark pouch under his eye. Pregnancy had increased his body fat percentage, but new shadows turned his face gaunt. A lack of sleep did not suit him well. He tested a smile because he was not the type to wallow, and was confronted with a slightly rabid creature.

Well, Marc didn't feel the need to hide it. He had never been a particularly tame Omega, and the past months had only succeeded in making him less lovely. If Valentino could resist him at his best, it was not a mystery that he had not been compelled to work harder with him the day before.

Marc's unclaimed neck hurt overnight and his palms were hot. Pregnancy's one mercy was a reprieve from lonely heats, and they would spare him no more.

He wrenched his eyes away from the mirror. His head spun with the prospect of his tasks ahead. Time pressed down on him with more pressure than it used to, but he banished the stress to the back of his mind. It had always been his way to make sure that good days followed bad days.

Valentino's blue shirt beckoned to him from its safe spot in the closet when he went to retrieve a change of clothes, laying prominently in its plastic bag. Marc considered indulging in a sniff, but he decided that he would close the day that way instead.

--

Amusingly, Alex remained terrible at waking up to his alarm. He pretended to be asleep when Marc walked into his room without knocking.

"Get up Alex, I heard you snooze your phone," Marc said.

Alex groaned and turned over. His head was buried under a pillow. "Later," he mumbled.

Marc wrestled the pillow away from him. "I want to cycle," he said. He wasn't supposed to so soon after childbirth, but he wasn't supposed to do fucking anything and he couldn't live that way anymore.

"You always want to cycle," Alex said. He covered his eyes with his forearm and yawned.

"It's late," Marc said belligerently. He was dressed in cycling gear and he didn't want to be left hanging like an idiot. His brother also didn't tend to neglect him when he really wanted to do something.

A loud sigh sounded. "You don't even like waking up before nine."

It was true, but Marc hadn't been able to train with his brother once he started waddling. This was the first time that Alex was home since Marc felt well enough to be vaguely useful as a training partner. Granted, it had only been a handful of days.

He prodded his brother on the forearm and grinned widely when Alex jerked his arm away. Marc already knew that he looked like an animal that day. "MotoGP riders have to stay fit. I'm going to boil eggs," he said.

Alex took one look at his expression and gave in, though he put up the act of resistance for a while longer. "Fuck off," he whined.

Marc did, but he knew they were sure to leave the house soon.

--

It chipped at the edges of Marc's tolerance with himself that Alex treated their morning exercise as a leisurely bit of post-race exertion, because Marc found the ride heinously uncomfortable. His body had become unaccustomed to being pushed. The one benefit was that the ache helped him to temper down some remnant anger from the night before.

He thought he was frustrated. On the other hand, if his scent was anything to go by, he was deliriously happy. What could stop him now?

Marc was meant for wheels. Rushing down a downhill slope gave him back his life. He stopped paddling and let gravity take him where it desired. Alex gloated rather unkindly when he nearly lost his balance. Marc appreciated not being suddenly handled with kid gloves.

Sweat beaded at Marc's temple and rolled down to the crook of his neck. He sought enjoyment in the discomfort and wished pregnancy had struck at any other time, so he could be his brother's teammate. They could have been doing this all the time, on tracks, all around Europe.

The reservoir they had taken their bikes to was a pretty sight that morning, though summer had brought water levels down quite drastically. Marc was uncaged. He'd been avoiding the outdoors for months as far as he could tolerate, because the prospect of being taken by illness while carrying a baby was unthinkable. To be absolved of that responsibility was freeing, to degrees that Marc did not know existed.

He wanted to seize the opportunity to discuss the major changes in Alex's career, but Alex brought up Marc's personal life instead.

"Must Valentino really come back?" Alex asked, as they slowed down to take a bend at the path.

"He will, he said he would," Marc answered. Belatedly, he noted Alex's phrasing. "You don't want him to?"

"I don't know," Alex said, with a frown. "He should, for your sake and Laia's anyway, but he's being stupid. I don't him. He never defends you."

"Maybe he used to be better at it," Marc said, though he didn't believe himself. He did not conflate the good memories with something more important. When it mattered, Valentino stepped aside and let his fans burn effigies in Marc's image.

He dwelled shortly on the past and understood Valentino's reticence a little bit. The prospect of all those people knowing that he and Valentino shared a baby was...he was not scared, but it was foreboding. Being famous was so often an inconvenience.

"He was never good at that," Alex said. "I know you don't need help, but what kind of Alpha lets that happen? Aren't you guys half bonded?"

"I never let him finish," Marc said. And Alex was right. Marc didn't need Valentino's help.

His neck ached again, punishing him for his past choices. He had always been the one to put a stop to it from going all the way when they were younger - when Valentino would mouth at his neck during his ruts, and Marc had to snap himself out of Omega docility to stop him.

The memory of Valentino's blue eyes still haunted him, rut-drunk and accusing, as though Marc had chosen to hurt him on purpose. "Why?" he would rasp plaintively, when Marc covered his mouth and pushed him away from his neck.

Sometimes Marc wondered what would have become of them had he just rolled over and given in. Maybe they would be better, or ten times worse.

Alex braked to chat properly. Marc stopped alongside him for a conversation that he really wanted to move past.

"Because he's old as fuck, right? You were twenty," Alex said, aggrieved. He was so protective for a little brother.

"And twenty-one, and twenty-two," Marc corrected. It always fell to him to play devil's advocate, though he agreed.

"I'm twenty-four now," Alex said sharply. Marc winced. There was no arguing against that.

Alex touched a hand to the crook of Marc's elbow. "It doesn't have to be him. There are a lot of better people out there," he said.

"I know," Marc, tetchy. He had given himself years to fall in love with someone else, and did not think it was his fault that nobody came his way. Some things couldn't be forced. The faceless, kind-hearted person he hoped for never arrived to whisk him away from all of his bad decisions.

Alex looked at Marc too perceptively. They always knew most things about each other - not everything, but it was near. When they spoke, their words overlapped. When they suffered, they found empathy. When Marc started wishing that the Valentino from his posters would kiss him, Alex had been the first to sulk. Marc had to coax the reason out of him and promise to never leave him behind.

"What do you really want?" Alex asked, with a slight air of resignation.

Marc quirked up a corner of his lip. What he wanted was always aspirational. "A nice family for Laia, a new neighbour for you, a new house for me, Valentino will live here, and I have more championships."

People always said that Marc had a way of getting what he wanted. Maybe his worst trait was that he always had to want things that were just short of impossible. But nothing was truly impossible.

"Marc," Alex said, annoyed with him because he never let himself be too stricken.

Marc didn't like to upset him.

He put his feet back on the pedals and kicked off. "Crazy right? Race you to the tree stump, last one will wash the dishes," he said brightly, and sped up before his words registered. The morning had been going too well to be distracted like this.

"You can't even win now," Alex shouted after him.

"You'll feel worse when I beat you again," Marc yelled back over his shoulder. His bike swerved from the action. He followed its trajectory so he wouldn't fall.

--

Had Marc been a superstitious person, he would have considered his ability to miss all of Valentino's calls to be an omen about their destiny. Back when things would good, Valentino would seemingly call at specific moments when Marc was at a technical meeting, or had left his phone behind for the briefest of toilet breaks.

Marc once brought up this strange coincidence when they had snuck around the paddock for a clandestine meet-up, far as possible from the media centre. He had been sitting on Valentino's lap, taller for once when he faced him.

"Why do you always look for me when I pee?" he had asked candidly. This was before he learned to run all of his words through a filter in his head, and he had felt perfectly safe coming across a little childish in front of Valentino.

Valentino laughed as though Marc was funny. The affectionate sound made Marc's hair stand pleasantly on end. "You're the one always pissing. Do you have an infection?"

"No," Marc said, affronted, then laughed at himself. It was hard to stay offended when Valentino was smiling like that and trying to work his hand down the front of Marc's trousers. He liked to get his fingers wet, did Valentino; had an open reverence for pussy. Not that Marc hadn't been flattered to help.

A warm hand also held him steady from behind. Marc felt a bit important, even though it also felt wrong to besmirch the sanctity of the paddock like this.

Valentino kissed his forehead adoringly. "Think like this, it is easy for you. When you want my attention, you only have to drink some water."

"Like it's that easy," Marc scoffed. Valentino was always busy, with his team and his brand and ranch. Marc was busy too, however, so he couldn't complain.

"Isn't it?" Valentino asked airily. "I find you very distracting. It's not normal. Uccio says I'm becoming more like a woman. You win my races, and I still come here with you."

He pressed a fingertip firmly into the tense opening of Marc's cunt. Marc shuddered.

A comeback line came to him a little too late. He said it anyway. "If I have an infection, it's 'cos your hands are dirty," he said.

Valentino laughed and withdrew some of the pressure. He tweaked Marc's clit clumsily. The corners of his eyes were crinkled in genuine amusement.

Common wisdom dictated that Marc disparate meetings revolving around sex did not constitute romance, but Marc was sure that the new, intense feeling that took up too much space in his own body had to be love.

The kiss that followed affirmed it; searching, hot, and consuming. Then a firm hand on Marc's jaw, a gaze that hungered, and a chastening bite on the skin below Marc's lip.

"It's not normal, what you do to me," Valentino repeated. His grip around Marc's waist was possessive. If anyone walked in on them, Marc's body was shielded by Valentino's own, for no one else's eyes.

It was love, dysfunctional though it may be. None of their discord had ever dissuaded Marc of this.

--

Marc was not all that surprised to see several missed call notifications on his phone after he cycled home. Cosmic forces that Marc didn't believe in continued to put Valentino and him at the wrong places and the wrong time for each other.

Call me when you're free please, it's important, read the lone text.

Marc shooed Alex away from the garage to shower first, and sat on the seat of his motorbike for an uncomfortable conversation. Change started from himself. He was going to talk properly.

Valentino must have been camping by his phone, with how quickly he answered.

"Hi Valentino," Marc said, expecting hostility.

But Valentino surprised him. "Marc," he said, in a tone that seemed almost jovial. Marc clutched his phone to his ear. Valentino didn't sound angry or even put-out.

"Did you have trouble going home?" Marc asked.

Valentino answered warmly. "Don't worry about me. I'm having breakfast with my mother. Did I mention that she came to stay with me for a few months?"

Marc swallowed. He could easily imagine him - barefoot, relaxed in a kitchen, in a comfortable T-shirt with an unknown logo printed on it, slicing into exotic fruit with a knife. Maybe stressed and sleep-deprived. Neither of their hometowns were that accessible.

"You didn't. You told her?"

Valentino laughed, the sharp, bright sound pierced Marc's eardrums and caused him to jerk the speaker away. He pulled it back quickly so he wouldn't miss anything. "She gave me a scolding." He pitched his voice higher. "Vale, I would have smacked you. You don't know what a mother goes through."

She knew. Presumably everyone else would soon know, and Valentino would never be able to shake off the label of being Laia's father.

Valentino was taking responsibility. Marc chose to be grateful, because the alternative was to be jealous of his own kid.

He settled into the strange conversation.

"Well, you don't. And she doesn't talk like that," he said, more amused than he wanted to be. Valentino was entertaining, but all this cheerful banter felt a bit unnatural. Less than twelve hours ago, Valentino had been downcast and regretful. It was disorienting to talk again and find him neither contrite nor begrudging. Last night's argument went like a passing shower.

Marc supposed it was better than continuing to fight. Whatever Valentino's strategy was, they tended to be worth a try.

"Pah, you and my mother, acting like you know each other better than me," Valentino said. Marc could almost see him waving it off with his majestic, horrible slouch.

"You should try being pregnant. You would look great. Most people have a pregnancy glow," Marc said, returning a joke. And they would still share a baby that way. He caught himself twirling a curl of hair around his finger and put it down.

Valentino made an audibly horrified sound. "Never, and I will always be grateful that it is not possible. I am astounded that you did it."

"Worst days of my life. I wouldn't do it again," Marc answered. He ran his hands over the front fairing of his bike to cool down his hot palms. If a heat was going to descend upon him, he needed to take this bike out now.

"But you chose to keep her," Valentino said, suddenly serious. His voice softened. Marc had to raise the volume to listen to him clearly. "I will always thank you, Marc. No matter what."

"Oh," Marc said, in barely a whisper.

He didn't know what to do with Valentino's sincerity. He had never really faced it before. Neither of them liked when things got too serious. They talked in touches, smiles, and unforgivable collisions.

"I'm not sure if I could have done it," Valentino admitted. His words were thick, choked, syllables catching on his tongue before they made a sound.

Marc had asked himself before while suffering through pregnancy, whether Valentino would have considered it a worthwhile sacrifice, had it been possible for him to be carry the baby instead. He mostly concluded that he would be the only one of them stupid and stubborn enough for this, and even he nearly had not been.

But Valentino said he wasn't sure, and that uncertainty was priceless to Marc. That was how his decision had started too - a moment of hesitation, then another, until he didn't have a choice. No athlete would volunteer for this. Uncertainty meant that Valentino would have wanted her, at least enough to consider forsaking himself, and he would try for her.

"You know why I had to?" Marc asked. He wanted to match what Valentino was giving to him. "It's- three percent, Vale. She shouldn't exist, but she must have wanted to. I had to meet her. Even we make another one, it's a different person. And she's yours."

Marc was bad at letting go, and worse when he knew it would be permanent. He wouldn't ever go off suppressants while he was still fertile and competitive. Valentino may well never want to fuck him again, and regardless of whether he wanted to, Marc felt an instinctive recoil at the thought of his body being breached. There wouldn't be another baby for them think about keeping. They had just this one.

Valentino exhaled heavily over the line. Marc's knuckles were strained with how hard he was gripping his phone to his ear.

"Marc darling, I am sorry. Let me see you."

Darling. Whatever that meant; if it was significant at all. Sorry, but for what?

"You first," Marc said.

Valentino turned on camera, and be looked more dreadful than Marc imagined. His voice betrayed little of the darkness on his image. Stress of conflict aged him, and the camera brought out his wrinkles.

The jokes meant nothing. Marc was crushingly relieved.

He let Valentino see him. They made a pair, guarded and weary, sizing each other up.

Invisible to Valentino, Marc brushed his thumb against his face. With the angle at which Valentino held his phone, Marc could only see the top of his band shirt. It was the same one he had intended to wear to sleep in Marc's house.

"Say it again," Marc demanded.

He saw the stubborn jump of a muscle at the crook of Valentino's jaw as he gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride. "I am sorry," he said, as though Marc stood before him with a shiv to his chest.

He was. Valentino was perfectly capable of acting, if he wished to put on a show. This was better.

Marc went quiet.

"You're still angry," Valentino remarked, misunderstanding Marc's silence. He shook his head. "Of course, I expect it."

"Yeah," Marc said, though he found rage difficult to sustain. It always came and went in waves, and now that half a day had passed since their conflict, he did not retain the same measure of emotion. It no longer dripped from his tongue and lashed out to protect. More sharply, his body reminded him that he was bereft. Even the cold silence of his womb tugged at his sub conscience, though he did not want it to be filled again.

Valentino pressed on. Marc begrudgingly admired his refusal to grovel. "About the announcement," he said directly, unabashed. Marc raised an eyebrow, and Valentino smiled. "Relax. I know we have to tell people. I wrote my own message, I want you to read it for me."

"Perfect," Marc said. He had been about to propose the same the night before. "Check my Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," Valentino said - in what Marc thought of as his Alpha voice, warm and certain. He wanted Valentino to say more so that he could evaluate with some degree of accuracy, but their days of being able to talk for hours were long gone.

He wondered what Valentino thought about him now. It had been obvious before Laia was born, but these days, Valentino might as well have been moored on an island and communicating in light signals.

"Vale," Marc said without thinking, seeking to cut through the bullshit. Thinking had not gotten him anywhere thus far. He could see Valentino's eyes widen in attention at the sound of his nickname. "Don't stay away too long."

Marc had sent him away in the first place and Valentino could nitpick on the hypocrisy of that if he wanted. But instead, his face fell, open and vulnerable for split second before he composed it back into beautiful impish charm that jarred with his eyebags. "Of course," he said again, as though there was anything that Marc could take for granted. "You miss me?" he asked, in a softer variation of Marc's taunt from the day before.

Maybe it wasn't a taunt. Maybe Marc had just wanted an answer, like Valentino might now.

"I always miss you," Marc said frankly. It didn't stop him from knocking Valentino into the gravel, or hating him, or hungering to chew him up at every opportunity that presented itself. He put a hand to the crook of his neck to massage the ache, and watched Valentino's gaze drift to follow the action. "I want Laia to see you smile like this, so be nice okay? My parents were always happy when I was young."

Valentino tilted his head and blinked his eyelids. He was so expressive, but Marc wasn't good at interpreting what the expressions meant. If only they could read each other's minds, they would finally decide if they were meant to love or not.

"Anything for you," Valentino said, voice like velvet and a face of stone. He continued to smile stiffly, and Marc pulled on a similar expression to end the call. The feral animal look should have followed him through the day. He caught Valentino's intense stare looking back before the connection was cut.

Marc dropped the phone on his lap. Between the lines, it felt as though they had accomplished something. Still, the conversation made him feel stupid.

--

Laia was crying when Marc entered the house.

"Don't worry, I'm handling it," Roser said as she bustled around with an empty milk bottle in hand. She was waiting for Marc's milk to thaw, he realised.

Marc grimaced at the reminder that he was a lactating animal. "Is she hungry again?" he snapped, then felt immediately guilty. Laia was just a infant. She wouldn't want to be difficult either, if she had a choice.

He went over to the mobile hammock to look at her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get mad," he said gently.

He didn't want to touch her when he had exposed himself to germs from the outside elements, so he knelt down and bounced her from the bottom of the hammock. Her wails tapered off into softer cries as he cooed. She still obviously had a favourite.

"You've been moody lately," Roser said chided, as she approached with the bottle. She never let him get away with anything.

"Yeah," Marc said. He ginned apologetically. "Thanks mama."

Roser huffed, pretending to be grumpy. She gathered Laia to rest on her arm and carried her back to the neat sofa - which was once again a sofa, with the pull-out bed tucked back in, and the bedding folded neatly on one side.

Laia fed peacefully, bundled in a fuzzy purple outfit and white mittens. Marc's heart softened by watching her, still little and blissfully unaware of the world.

He sat down next to his mother and shook his restless limbs. Valentino had rested on the sofa, though Marc had not seen him doing so. His scent was there, just a gentle touch of it going to Marc's head.

His mother was seemingly oblivious, for which Marc was grateful. Being the only Omega in a household of Betas allowed him to live out his chaos with relative dignity.

"Vale left, didn't he?" Roser asked. The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her feelings.

"I sent him home because he didn't tell anyone about Laia yet. It's settled now, we're making an announcement today," Marc said. He fiddled with some skin that peeled off his hands. His callouses were softer now, but he did not have delicate hands. It was good - meant that he hadn't rested his body for as long as he thought.

"And is he coming back?"

"Yes," Marc said, confident about this. "After Brno latest. I think he will be back earlier." He looked at his hands again. "I'm going to take the bike out later to ride around the roads. My shoulder isn't that bad, just a dislocation," he added, as an aside.

"Marc," Roser said his name pointedly. Marc turned to meet her eyes. He had been half lost in his own mind, occupied with thoughts of Valentino and regaining his physical form. "Is everything really okay?"

Usually, he would be callous and downplay her concern. Perhaps the newness of parenthood made it impossible for him. He understood that she would suffer more for being kept in the dark. She would know when he lied.

He slouched against her side and stopped shaking his limbs incessantly. She elbowed away his dead weight. "You stink," she said, so he leaned in even closer. She was soft and comfortable, which he associated with the concept of mothers, save for himself.

"Valentino is a difficult person, right?" he remarked, a non sequitur.

"Worse than difficult," Roser said gravely.

Marc hummed consideringly. "And I am also difficult, and people will say a lot of things about us. I'm not sure when things will be okay."

The corners of his mouth tilted up, however, and found that the expression came easily to him. In spite of everything, it didn't feel like the end of the world.

She observed him with her arms full Laia. "Why do you smile? I don't understand what you are thinking sometimes," she said tiredly.

He sat up straight and crossed his legs in front of him. "Then just believe me," he said with earnest assurance. "I want to be happy."

From his years of growing up, he knew that his mother would have hands smoothing over his hair or tugging his ear had she not been busy. She gave him an affectionate, long-suffering look instead. "Idiot child. What do you mean?"

"I don't know yet," Marc said, and laughed because he knew that it sounded as though he was talking shit. He meant it though. He was good at taking miles when there were inches, and Valentino was leaving him a gap for the first time in years.

And if it desperately came to it, he could make things work without Valentino too. He had a child and a loving family, and he would take back his career at the earliest opportunity. He had all the options he needed.

[dotties-things]

can I get an imagine where older Johnny tries to surprise Daniel with breakfast in bed, but it turns into a disaster? Something funny and sweet

“Breakfast in Bed? - Never again!”

Johnny x Daniel : LawRusso | Imagine | Fluff & Humor |

Rising to the challenge came with its own set of hurdles, especially for those with a natural competitive streak. Namely, Johnny Lawrence.

Long story short, their usual back and forth of harmless bickering became something that picked beneath the skin. It wasnʼt intentional nor was it malicious. Though, when Daniel playfully insinuated Johnny probably couldnʼt boil an egg, Johnny saw an opportunity. He is more than capable, even if his skills are basic culinary. Nevertheless, Johnny isnʼt a man to back down from his word.

In this case, perhaps he should be...

The stove is practically burning from the spillage of oil that seeped onto the ring when Johnny tilted the pan to examine the cooking process with his spatula. A curse has also been thrown into the mix, amongst other obscenities due to almost enduring a burn on the edge of his hand; mostly during the stages where Johnny stabbed the sausages with a fork.

And to make matters worse, the butter knife ended up clattering to the floor, coated in butter. So now, not only does Johnny have a mess to clear up from his overuse of kitchenware, he also has additional carnage.

To say the ‘breakfast in bedʼ undisclosed bet was going pear shaped would be accurate.

“Easy does it, Johnny. Easy does it,” he mumbles to himself, loading the plated goods onto a tray, twenty minutes later. It is flanked by a cup of coffee.

Johnnyʼs self psyching abilities proved little benefit, especially when he stubbed his toe while ascending the staircase. The tray wobbles and the coffee dribbles over the rim onto the wooden tray.

“Piece of crap...” Johnny grumbles, shaking off the ordeal. He lets out a sigh, pushing open the ajar bedroom door with his hip a few seconds post recovery of the nearmiss incident. “Honey, I got you breakfast in bed...”

Daniel groans, turning over. He rubs the sleep from his eyes. There is a noticeable stall in conversation. A repetition of eradicating sleep from his eyes occurs. “Am I dreaming?” Daniel teases, smirking.

Johnny rolls his eyes. There is an undeniable fondness in his expression. “Hilarious LaRusso.” He tentatively settles the tray onto the divan.

“What have you done? Actually, spare me.” Daniel extends a palm, slowly sitting upright. The duvet pools at his waist. “Do I even wanna know the state of the kitchen?”

“Not if you wanna run the risk of heart failure, then I would probably advise against it, babe.” Johnny winces primarily, but then grins as if to conceal and wash over the topic at hand.

Daniel hums, glancing down at the assortment of food and refreshment. “Why is there a pool of coffee coating what probably should be an apetitising dish of sausage and egg? Not to mention, how the yolk is — politely put, burnt to a crisp, Johnny?”

Johnny lets out a sigh, throwing his hands up. “Improvisation, without intent.”

Danielʼs brow arches suspiciously. “Right...”

“Fine. I tripped and the coffee may have...yʼknow. But cooking is all about experimenting, right? You tell me that all the time, Daniel,” Johnny tries. His mischievous smirk arises.

He sighs in defeat, shaking his head. “I mean, I guess I do but —” Daniel stabs the egg with a fork. It barely moves an inch. It might as well be made of rubber, burnt rubber that is.

It is however, safe to say, from that moment going forward, Johnny refrained from balancing too many objects on the tray. And having breakfast be brought into bed, became a thing they never talked about again...

GIFset Credits: @wkomd

[catgirlmurder]

AWESOME THINGS YOU CAN DO TO MAKE INSTANT RAMEN INTO AN ACTUAL KIND OF MEAL INSTEAD OF JUST BAREBONES SURVIVAL FILLER u can add spices!! its been adding stuff like garlic powder, msg, and cayenne or curry powder and its ssoo freaking YUMMY... it also helps the broth feel a bit thicker!! becoz there's more stuff dissolved within it. its probably more nutritious too!!

you can add vegetablels!!!!!!! kittys been adding little bits of green onions to its instant ramen and its like kind of yummy and theres some green in there instead of it just being a bowl of yellow soup noodles. it knows for sure you can find other good vegetables to add in too because like cup ramen always comes with corn kernels and peas and stuff but ramen packets dont have those :P EGG. HARD BOIL EGG. JUST. JUST PUT IT IN. BREAK IT UP A BIT. YUMMY. adds protein. yay. u can probably also find other yummy meats to add too. iunno.

kittys just been getting rly into adding stuff to instant ramen because its very easy to do and ramen noodles cost fucking nothing. kitty really struggles with feeding itself properly but for whatever reason its getting really into this and it wanted to make a post about it in case there are others who share similar struggles that would benefit from a bit of inspiration >^^<~

[shunin-gumis]

Spiked-Donation: Yes or No? (Part 1)

The Kungfu Bodyguard who's always Bruised

Another nagishuu card I thank eitori for this food 🙏

Thank you aca @/463ce6 and Niri @/Niri_riri for helping me with proofing!

Location: HAMA House 2F Corridor

Netaro: Hm………….

Nagi: …… 

Location: HAMA House Changing Room

Netaro: Hm………..

*Netaro circling Nagi*

Nagi: …… 

Location: HAMA House Dining Room

Momiji: The boiled eggs are ready! Anyone want one~?

Nagi: Ah, I’ll ha—

Netaro: Nom!

Momiji: Woah!

Netaro: Nyam nyam.

Netaro: Hm…………

Momiji: (What’s with the silent pressure he’s exerting while stuffing his face with boiled eggs…)

Momiji: Be careful not to choke on it.

Nagi: Netaro has been staring at me a lot lately… 

Netaro: Nyam… *gulp*

Nagi: If I did something wrong without realizing it, please let me know so I can apologize and compensate you promptly. 

Netaro: Gii… Has something changed for you, recently?

Nagi: What do you mean? 

Netaro: Have you fallen in love? 

Nagi: *cough* *HACK* *cough*

Netaro: So I was spot on! Doudou, looks like this fellow has changed after falling in love!

Nagi: N-No, that’s not– *cough cough* 

Momiji: Nagi-kun, are you okay!? Here, have some water!

Nagi: …*gulp gulp*

Netaro: Oh! Perhaps the object of your affections is— 

Nagi: Netaro, you look thirsty, have some water. Just, stop talking. 

Netaro: …*gulp gulp*

Nagi: It’s nothing like that. Nothing happened. I’m not in- It’s not like that, okay?

Momiji: O-Okay…… 

Netaro: Phew. 

Netaro: Mm, however, it’s been on my mind since last night. The fact that the flavor has changed.

Nagi: Huh… 

Momiji: Flavor? Of what?

Netaro: Gii’s.

Nagi: He means the flavor of my cooking has changed. Lately I’ve been really into Chouji’s Cook and Chill videos, and he just puts dashi powder into everything. Apparently that solves any problem you’d have.

Netaro: No, I was talking about that… 

Nagi: THAT orange juice over there? You should have some—

Nagi: Oh.

*Nagi faints*

Momiji: Nagi-kun!?

~~~

Location: HAMA House - Rat Room

Momiji: Are you sure you’ll just sleep it off? You fainted so suddenly… 

Nagi: I’m sorry for troubling you. It’s just my anemia, so please don’t worry about me.

Nagi: (......I can’t tell her it’s because of Netaro doing “that”…)

Momiji: Did you take the health check-up from the company?

Nagi: Don’t worry, I had one just the other day. Haven’t had to feel the cold stethoscope against my skin since middle school.

Momiji: That’s good then… 

Nagi: (The Chief’s kindness is really heartwarming… The employee benefits are really generous, I’m truly happy to have found such a great workplace.)

Nagi: (Due to reasons, I ended up needing to donate my blood to an alien, but I’m sure I still haven’t…paid enough… for this happiness…)

Momiji: Nagi-kun?

Nagi: *soft breathing* Momiji: He fell asleep…

Part 2

[sir-walter-elliot]

Sir Walter, I must ask... What is your skincare routine?

You are very wise to ask such a thing—more would do well to follow my advice for the skin, and I have no scruples in sharing my methods so that more people will benefit from luminous skin and I will not have the misfortune of looking upon so many frightful scarecrows!

My skincare routine is thus.

In the morning, I first wash my face, neck, and hands with elder-flower water. I apply a paste of white wax, almond oil, and spermaceti to my lips. My face is pinched between the fingertips for 10 minutes to bring a rosy glow to the skin. Finally, I anoint my face, neck, and hands with Gowland, and apply a fine white lead-based powder over it.

(I say "I" do these tasks, but of course it is actually my servants who attend to me and perform all the duties I am describing.)

In the afternoon, I fumigate my face, which is very efficacious in preventing or even removing wrinkles. (Not that I personally have any wrinkles to remove, but I mention this only for others who do have such a misfortune.) My servant puts some powder of the best myrrh upon an iron plate, and heats it sufficiently to melt the gum. I then hold my face over it, with my head covered with a napkin, for 20 minutes. My face is then washed with milk. Another layer of Gowland is applied.

Before I go to bed, I wash my face with rose-water, then apply a paste of boiled egg whites, alum, and almond oil. This remains on for 30 minutes, then is removed with Venice soap and fresh rose-water. Five drops of oil of rhodium are applied to the skin and gently massaged in. Then a final layer of Gowland is applied, of course, and my eye mask secured on top.

So, you see, it's really quite simple for anyone to follow.

[nyamadermont]

Two Truths, and a Lie

@flashfictionfridayofficial: #FFF309 Two Truths, and a Lie

and @polyamships: September 14: 🏡Domesticity🦮

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

236 words

The air rushing into his lungs told Tenzin that one of them had started making breakfast. He could feel the slight uptick in warm humidity that signalled boiling water for tea. There was a slight tinge that was just below the threshold of ‘scent,’ so he suspected eggs were being steamed.

He released his breath, then pulled in a slow breath, feeling as many of the muscles of his ribs as he could. With a roll of his shoulders, he pressed his fists together and pushed up from the floor of the balcony.

Waking up at the apartment meant he had no Temple responsibilities for the day. Somehow, the mundane chores of maintaining a living space - the mopping, laundry, dusting, even provisioning - felt different when it was their space. When he was working beside Pema and Lin, for their benefit. He knew it was a variety of selfish, but he found it to be true.

Yes, waking up in this bed, in this place, beside one or both of them, with nothing more than domesticity for the day had become his favorite thing.

He turned. Through the window, he spotted Lin leaning into Pema, her head resting on Pema’s shoulder, arms draped around Pema’s waist. Pema had her arms wrapped around Lin’s shoulders, the fingers of one hand gently rubbing Lin’s scalp.

That was a lie, he told himself.

Watching them together is my favorite thing.

[aromantic-goldfishdeactivated202]

at the point in my life where I’m eating boiled eggs on purpose for their nutritional benefits. I fear it may be too late

[zearuxd]

Eggpio

Trickster Pokemon

# 34

Normal / Steel

Height: 0.35 m / 1' 1.7"

Weight: 7.3 kg / 16.09 lb

Egg gruop: No eggs discovered

Gender ratio: 50% male / 50% female

This strange Pokémon is known for its spontaneous appearances in the nests of other Pokémon. It's been known to spend days just chilling, barely moving, which has led to some playful jokes in the region. People often paint rocks and leave them for novice trainers, pretending they're this Pokémon.

Other Pokémon find Egippio to be so darn cute, they're always helping it out or just watching it with a smile. It's like it's one of the gang, blending right in. And sometimes, it tries its best to copy the others around it, the poor thing. It's a real clumsy imitation, but somehow, it's totally lovable.

Evo-> Fiksh

Laying parasitism

Supernormal stimulus

Special Guest:

The Pokémon attracts all healing and support moves to itself, even if it was not the original target. Its presence generates the illusion of being the most needy, diverting the healing of its allies and enemies towards it. Affects movements such as: Acua ring, Aromatherapy, Heal bell, Heal pulse , Healing Wish, Milk drink, Moonlight, Morning Sun, Recover, Refresh, Rest, Roost, Slack off, Soft boiled, Swallow, Synthesis, Wish, Floral Healing, Purify, Shore up, Strength sap, Life Dew and Jungle healing Does not affect: Moves involving damage, such as Leech seed or Bitter Blade . Restriction: The user cannot benefit from healing his own moves.